


A Heaven Where Some Screams Have Gone

by deliriumbubbles



Series: Team Bruce, Team Ellen [3]
Category: Glee
Genre: Emotional/Psychological Abuse, M/M, Not Blaine or Klaine Friendly, Sexual Assault
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-18
Updated: 2014-03-18
Packaged: 2018-01-16 04:35:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1332097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deliriumbubbles/pseuds/deliriumbubbles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kurt returns home after his less than ideal dinner with the mentors, Santana, and Brittany. When he sees Blaine settled in to spend the night, he goes off in what will be referred to as an atomic bomb. For Kurt, however, the fallout goes much further than the Glee gossip mill.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part One

_Finn_

_8:10pm, Saturday_

Finn had a mouthful of peanut butter and crackers when he stepped into the living room to see the most terrifying thing he’d ever witnessed.

Kurt. Completely  _losing it_.

Finn had never seen Kurt really  _angry_  before. Usually when Kurt got angry, you knew it by him acting snippy or if he was really mad, by him getting really, really cold. Sub- _arctic_. His voice would go high, and his neck would seem to get longer, and he would just look at you and freeze you from the inside out. No words needed.

This was nothing but spit and  _fire_.

“What is  _wrong_  with you?” Blaine demanded.

“What’s wrong with  _me_? Are you out of your  _mind_? Would you like a freakin’ PowerPoint presentation?”

Finn turned and fled back into the kitchen. He should be doing something. Not that Kurt seemed to need much help laying down the smack at the moment. Finn jumped as Kurt threw something across the room so hard that it broke a lamp.

A moment later he heard Burt’s voice raised. When he realized that Kurt and  _Burt_  were yelling at each other now, he swallowed his milk so he could actually contribute without spewing peanut butter and crumbs everywhere and ran back into the room, but Kurt was already bolting up the stairs. His door slammed behind him.

Everyone stood around as silence overwhelmed the room.

“Blaine, I think you should go,” Burt said finally. Without waiting for an answer, he headed up the stairs.

Blaine stood there for a moment, looking around in hurt and bewilderment.

“Dude,” Sam said quietly.

“This isn’t  _fair_ ,” Blaine protested.

“I SAID GO,” Burt boomed.

Blaine jumped in place. He licked his lips, then went to pick up something off the floor. Sam handed him his duffle bag and made a waggly thumb and pinky ‘call me’ phone gesture as Blaine went out the door.

It was so quiet that they could hear Burt upstairs.

“C’mon, Kurt. Lemme in… Look, I never thought he’d go through with the dumb ass idea. I really didn’t. I just thought it was this wild hair he’d gotten with all this positive stuff in the media about gay marriage— that’s how he was talkin’ about it, anyway— and I thought telling you would just make it worse. Especially if you did  _eventually_  want to get back together-”

Kurt’s reply was inaudible.

“No. No, you’re right about that.” His voice grew quieter. “I’m sorry, Kurt. I never wanted to ‘betray you’. I never meant anything like that. You know I love you more than anything.”

Burt’s voice quieted to a murmur as the two of them talked through the door. Eventually, Burt came down looking like a wrung out old towel. 

“He didn’t let you in?” Carole raised her brows and touched his arm.

“He’s just real upset right now. You know how he is. Can’t talk until he calms down a little. He could barely get the words out…” He lifted his cap, smoothed his hand over his head, then tugged the cap back into place. “I hurt him, Carole.”

She hugged him around the waist. “He  _knows_ you would never mean to do that.”

Burt just shook his head. “Knowin’ I didn’t do it on purpose… Doesn’t help. Not so much.”

Finn slipped over to Sam.  “Dude. What just  _happened_?”

—-

_2:18am, Sunday_

Finn woke to hear noises down the hallway. He couldn’t make sense of it at first, but then there was some scuffling sounds and a loud crack, and Kurt’s screaming like a banshee, then more noise, and then  _Burt_ yelling. What the heck was happening out there?

He fumbled around for some pants and by the time he had himself together and ventured out into the hall, it was empty. He ruffled a hand through his hair and kept moving. As he passed Kurt’s room, he caught sight of the disarray in the normally super orderly space. The bedspread was half pulled onto the floor. A pillow had fallen by the dresser. The post on the headboard was askew. And there was smallish sneaker by the foot of the bed. Too small for Kurt’s big feet, anyway.

Finn breathed in and out anxiously and rushed down the stairs. The light was on in the kitchen, and he followed it to find everyone in the house, even that mean cat Sam had been keeping for some reason, gathered there.

His eyes went to Kurt, who was sitting at the table, bowed forward with his hands over his face. Carole hovered next to him, but hesitated to touch him. Sam lingered by the counter, biting his lip and looking awkward. Burt stood by the coffeemaker, pouring in water and looking back at Kurt every few seconds. 

Finn stayed in the doorway for what seemed like a long time. Deep in his chest, he could feel the wrongness that pervaded the whole house.

But he didn’t understand what had  _happened_.

Burt poured coffee into a mug and set it in front of Kurt, who remained still for a moment, and then looked up and squeaked out a ‘thanks.’

Finn came to sit at the table. Kurt stared at the coffee and wrapped his fingers around the warm mug and forced a little smile. He opened his mouth, but then didn’t say anything.

It was  _weird_  to be giving someone coffee at this time of night.

“We can still call the police,” Burt said.

“No. No, I don’t want to do that,” Kurt said quickly.

“Honey, if you need some time to think about it-” Carole said.

“I don’t. I don’t want to. They’ll just…” Kurt shook his head and seemed to lose his train of thought for a moment. “I just want this to go away. I can go home and get back to living my life.”

A chill went up Finn’s spine, and as Burt and Carole moved over to the counter, talking in hushed tones about police and hospitals, Finn fixed his attention on his brother.

“Hey, so… Been a while,” Finn said awkwardly. 

Kurt looked up at him and wiped away a few tears. “Uh-huh.”

Finn blinked, feeling more alarmed at Kurt’s dazed response.

“Sorry I haven’t been around.” Finn shrugged his head to the side. “At school now.”

Finn stayed by Kurt’s side, watching him closely, starting awkward conversation about what he’d been doing at school. Still, Kurt seemed to appreciate it, when he realized Finn was talking to him. Finn had been going on for a few minutes when Kurt jerked up his sleeve, then looked up at him as though confused. Finn touched Kurt’s wrists and winched at the bruise just starting to bloom.

When Kurt said that he missed Finn, the words were so heartfelt that Finn really wished he’d decided to move to New York and go to school there. Or just gone anyway and worked at a bar or something. Find some way to see his brother every day. Then, Kurt leaned his head to the side sleepily, and he sipped his coffee as he listened to Finn’s stories.

 

_Burt_

_9:45pm, Thursday_

Kurt entered the kitchen all spruced up but a bit worn around the eyes. Burt smacked the side of the coffeemaker, and Kurt veered over from the fridge to set the thing right.

“You shouldn’t be drinking coffee this late,” he said, cleaning out the filter and putting in more grounds.

“Thanks.” Burt ignored the lecture. “Where you been?”

“Breadstix.” He poured in some water, settled the carafe in place, and flipped the switch. “Blaine found some cute old lesbians at the mall.” He walked back to the refrigerator and poked his head in. “He wanted me to meet them.”

“Oh.” Burt tilted his head back. “You didn’t have dinner?”

“No, just coffee. And we shared a piece of cake. Nice sugar and caffeine rush, but little lacking on nutrition.” Kurt pulled out several items and went to the counter to make a sandwich. “It was a little awkward, but they were really sweet. The lesbians, not the cake and coffee. Those were sweet, too, I guess.”

“Yeah?” The coffeemaker made its straining, steaming noises behind Burt as he leaned on the counter. He frowned and licked his lips slightly. “So. You two patched things up?”

Kurt looked up from spreading a very thin layer of mayo on his bread and blinked at Burt twice before answering. “We… weren’t fighting?”

“You know what I mean. You two were broken up…” Burt gestured with one hand, though he wasn’t sure why. It just felt like he needed to do something physical at that moment.

They’d had a sex talk, him and Kurt, but Kurt still didn’t tend to come to Burt with boy troubles. As far as he could tell, Kurt didn’t talk much about that stuff with anyone. Except Burt did notice some of Finn’s phone calls sounded like they were talking about the break up.

“We’re  _still_  broken up.” Kurt continued the meticulous construction his sandwich. “That happened  _months_  ago. We’re just friends now.”

“Yeah, yeah. Okay.” Burt nodded and pulled the carafe out of the coffee maker and poured himself a cup. “But you  _have_  been spending a lotta time with him lately, right?“

Kurt’s brow started to furrow. He set the top slice of bread on his sandwich and cut it at an angle. “It’s not really been a  _lot_ of time. I went to sit in with the New Directions for a few days, and he followed Mercedes, Mike, and me for coffee. I’ve spent more time with Mercedes, Unique, and her little friend Marley this trip, honestly. I was hoping to spend more with you guys. Do you know when Finn will be coming back from school?”

He reached for a glass and poured himself some water.

“He hasn’t said yet. Maybe you could guilt him a little. Get him back here before you gotta leave.” Burt took a sip of his coffee. He didn’t understand why it never tasted right unless Kurt made it. He noticed every morning that it was off. “Look, I’m not tryin’ to be nosy or anything, but y’know, with you and Blaine…”

He trailed off long enough for Kurt to look over again curiously. He’d been about to dig into his sandwich, but now seemed to be waiting for what Burt would say.

Maybe Burt still  _wasn’t_  ready to talk to his son about guys. But he couldn’t go on ignoring this thing. It wasn’t fair to either of them, to be an absent father here. He gathered his thoughts together.

“You could do worse than Blaine, y’know.”

Kurt’s lips tightened, and he leaned back against the counter. “Dad, we’re  _friends_.”

“Does  _he_  know that?” Burt pressed.

“He ought to,” Kurt breezed. “I’ve told him so enough times. It was a hinge point in him guilting me to go meet Jan and Liz tonight.”

“Okay. Just…”

“Just what?”

“Look, Blaine’s a guy’s guy, but he’s also kinda… fragile right now. Y’know, sensitive. So maybe you should try not to jerk him around so much.”

“ _What_?” Kurt’s tone was sharp enough that Burt could see about twenty red flags spring up.

“You’ve got history, is all I’m sayin’.” Burt held his hands up. “It’s  _always_  hard when exes try to be friends. You can’t just pretend there was never anything between you two. You should be careful not to take advantage of him. He cares a lot about you.”

Kurt rolled his eyes. “And what, I’m not being ‘caring’ when I go out and do what he asks with the  _express purpose_  of supporting him?”

“I’m not  _saying_  that. Don’t get tetchy.” Burt shrugged. “He’s just been heartbroken all year. You haven’t seen ‘im, Kurt. You really did a number on him. I don’t think you realize the effect you have on some guys, that’s all.”

Kurt sipped his water, now seeming disinterested in his food. His voice came out, a high, chilly sound: “The break up was hard on me, too.”

“I’m sure it was,” Burt agreed, bobbing his head. “But you’re in the big city, with a  _great_ job, at a  _great_  school, and he’s stuck here. Don’t be mad. It just sucks for him, is all.”

“I think he’s doing  _okay_.” His voice dropped to a whisper so Burt had to lean forward to hear. “Lead of the Glee club, Class president, head Cheerio…” Kurt rolled his eyes. “Much better than I was senior year.”

“But senior year, you had  _him_ ,” Burt pointed out.

Kurt ran a hand through his hair and pushed himself away from the counter. “I’m going to sleep.”

“Kurt, I’m just trying to be  _real_  with you here. I get that long distance relationships are tough, and sometimes things aren’t as easy as you think they’ll be. But Blaine’s a really good kid. I just think maybe you should be open to giving him another chance.”

“Dad.” Kurt took a breath and looked at the floor.

Burt pressed his lips back and turned away slightly. He hated to watch Kurt get so upset. He could be so _sensitive_. That’s why these conversations were so hard. 

“We are  _just friends_. A lot of gay guys are friends with an ex or two. I’ve  _asked around._ And while I normally appreciate your advice-” Kurt let out a little sigh. “-more than anyone else, actually,  _this_  time, I’d appreciate it if you’d just trust that I know what’s best for me.”

“Of course you do, Kurt.” Burt nodded, thinking about the intensity in Blaine’s face as he’d argued for his right to  _marry_  Kurt. “Just… Sometimes you can be a little closed off. A little cold, y’know. Don’t close doors to places you might wanna go inside later.”

Kurt’s eyes widened a little and his nostrils flared. He swallowed hard, a muscle jumping in his jaw from the tension he was holding. Burt took a long sip of his coffee, feeling a bit of guilt for riding Kurt about this at all, and hoped he hadn’t gone too far in trying to pave the way for Kurt’s future happiness with Blaine.

When he finally spoke again, Kurt’s response was airy, and came with a bonus arched brow: “You  _might_  want to rethink that phrasing. And I have pretty much decided that Blaine is not a ‘place’ I want to ‘go inside’ again.”

Burt choked and coughed, trying not to spit coffee all over the floor. 

“I’ll be in the living room watching  _Top Gear_ , if you’re interested,” Kurt half-sang as he left.

_Carole_

_9:42am, Sunday_

“Go on in. I’m gonna park the car,” Burt said.

Carole nodded and got out. Finn had already pulled Kurt’s luggage out of the trunk and was edging his brother away from picking it up himself.

“I can get it, Finn. I packed it; I can carry it.”

“But you won’t,” Finn said simply.

There was no point in waiting for Burt to move the luggage inside to be checked, since Kurt almost always grabbed his luggage to keep Burt from carrying any of it. He was getting much stronger now, but the treatment from his cancer sometimes made him weak and tired. It was one of those things they didn’t talk much about, because they didn’t have to; every member of their family was keenly aware of Burt’s needs. And anyway, by now it should be given that when Kurt was home, he had a hard time putting anything but his father’s wellbeing as his focus.

And that was all well and good. Sometimes. Unless it prevented Kurt from giving them vital information. Unless it prevented Kurt from getting support himself. 

Carole led the way into the airport and went up to the self-service kiosk. She was determined to pay for Kurt’s luggage fees. He’d taken so much time away from school to be with them. Two weeks wasn’t that much, given one of them had been spring break, but when you were just starting out, and going to school and working, that was a huge chunk of time not to be pulling in money.

“Thanks, Carole,” Kurt said softly.

She smiled at him and, tentatively, rubbed his back. He didn’t pull away this time, so the tension released from her own shoulders. She’d let a lot of things in her life slip by unnoticed. Sometimes she got distracted. By grief, by working to keep their house, by her new husband, their new life, by Burt’s cancer (of course they were all distracted by that). She’d thought she’d been doing pretty well by Kurt, having very early in her marriage given Burt the ear he needed to voice his concerns about the bullying. They’d made the decision to convince Kurt to go to Dalton together, even though he barely mentioned how the McKinley treatment affected him, and he would never ask for such a thing. But she’d been so focused on Burt lately that Kurt’s current troubles had gone right by her. It made her nervous.

Finn was coming home every other weekend whether he liked it or not. Or she’d come up to his dorm and embarrass him.

As the three of them shifted into one of the lines, Kurt leaned his head forward and sighed. His fingertips moved over the slick paper of his boarding pass. He seemed to feel awkward about taking her money for the luggage. He’d waved off the idea earlier, and she didn’t know if it was because she was his stepmother or something else. Neither he nor Finn asked for money outright very often. Most of the time, in high school, they’d worked in the shop when they wanted money. It must seem strange for them, outside of special occasions, to accept donations of cash. 

Now that she was thinking about it, Kurt and Finn didn’t ask for  _help_ all that often. Kurt would ask his father for advice. They both would. Finn would go to Carole for food and comfort, but not always the latter, even if he seemed to need it. It was like they’d both trained themselves for independence, and the notion that their parents could, or should, be relied on more heavily for things they just couldn’t do themselves was completely foreign.

Kurt reached down to pick his suitcase up, but Finn grabbed it. Kurt rolled his eyes, but let him do it.

Oddly, marrying a wonderful man and being a mother to two wonderful boys didn’t lead to a wonderful happily-ever-after, the way it should. She’d learned that with Burt’s cancer, but the last twenty-four hours had given her a second, undeniable shock.

“Kurt, I was thinking, now that Burt’s treatment is finished, we should schedule a trip up to New York. When you get back, could you let us know when a good time would be?”

Kurt raised his brows and tilted his head, considering it.

He well might be surprised, since Carole hadn’t visited him there yet. 

“Don’t worry about us being in your space. We’ll get a hotel. I know how crowded that apartment is.” She smiled.

“Okay. I’ll look ahead on my schedule… I don’t know if the end of the semester is a great time for me to take you guys around…”

“Well, if we came for a weekend, we wouldn’t ask you to entertain us. If you wanted us there for a few days, I could help around the apartment, and just let you have some time hanging out with your father. But you choose a time that’s best for you, okay?” Carole smiled warmly.

They moved away from the line to wait for Burt. 

“Man, I’d love to come up to visit,” Finn said. “Like, a real one.”

“Yeah, your last two trips must’ve been dizzying,” Kurt agreed.

“But my classes are on the quarter system. I can barely keep up.” Finn pinched his lips to the side and frowned.

“Maybe for the summer, then?” Carole suggested.

“If you come up for summer, I’m dragging you to Pride,” Kurt informed him. “I have a passal of drag queens who want me up on their float.”

Finn laughed. “That sound pretty fun, actually.”

“We’ll get you a ‘Straight but Not Narrow’ shirt so guys won’t hit on you,” Kurt assured him.

“What if I want dudes to hit on me? I could use an ego boost!”

Kurt laughed and shook his head. Then his fingers came up to his temple, and he shifted his carry-on bag.

Burt entered through the automatic doors at the front, and Carole could feel the tension rise. Her own guilt probably couldn’t rival her husband’s at the moment. And now they were going to have to say goodbye to Kurt, when surely, all anyone wanted was to take him back home and hold their family very, very tight.

_Kurt_

_7:38pm, Saturday_

After dropping off Santana and Brittany for what was sure to be a rousing night of bendy lesbian sex, Kurt headed back home, driving slowly and breathing as evenly as possible. The past week had been hell in a hand basket. Stress over his father’s health, Finn’s complete absence at home, attacks from former friends, inappropriate comments and touching from his ex. It was like the cumulative debris of all of his teenage years was piling on his shoulders, and then,  _right then,_  was the moment he’d had to deal with Liz and Jan, and yet another group of people siding with Blaine without getting even  _some_ of the details. 

Why did people give Blaine so much leeway? Why did they believe in him so effortlessly and bend over backwards to ensure his happiness? Kurt had tried so hard not to get jealous when they were dating. He tried not to be a bitter person in general, because the world was  _hard enough_ , and if he gave in to his anger, if he let himself be that person who lashed back and lashed out, he would find himself forfeit to despair and become useless to this world.

This was a bad line of thinking. It wasn’t helping him stay calm, and he needed to try. He desperately needed to be able to walk through his front door and pretend that this night with Blaine’s lesbian minions had never happened. He could take the time to plan how he was going to extricate himself from Blaine, how Kurt would explain the crazytown way Blaine had been trying to manipulate him to his father, and how Kurt had a new boyfriend (for several weeks now) and Burt needed to be open-minded about the changes. Burt liked Blaine a  _lot_. It had been a little daunting to even  _think_ about introducing a new guy to him. But this stuff Blaine had been up to recently was a little much for even Burt to accept from his “guy’s guy” gay. Given how protective Burt could be about Kurt at times, it could get explosive. Lucky his father didn’t have a shotgun.

He pulled into the driveway and felt his heart leap. Finn’s car was parked along the curb. Relief prickled down his skin. They wouldn’t have  _much_  time tonight, but talking to Finn, even if it was just hanging out in Kurt’s room (Finn’s was always too messy to have additional seating without excavating a chair or two) or chatting over breakfast, Kurt would be more at ease. It didn’t even really matter what they talked about really; spending time with Finn usually helped Kurt get his balance back.  

Kurt hopped out of the car, smoothed his hands over his cheeks one more time, pulled air deep into his lungs, and headed to the doorway. There was some noise inside, which caused him to slow his pace a little. Maybe Finn had brought Puck over? He turned the knob and opened the door curiously.

Funny how quickly his body could grow completely cold. Was it anger? Burning so hot that he had a chill running down his spine? A few seconds passed as he stood there in silence, unnoticed.

Blaine sat on the sofa in between Sam and Burt, telling a story with his hands, and everyone was laughing. Their bodies were all turned toward him, as though pulled by some hidden supernatural force. 

Kurt didn’t know or care what story it was, or what kind of gel-born witchcraft Blaine was using on everyone. He cared that Blaine’s duffle bag lay with presumed innocence next to the coffee table. Blaine was  _apparently_  spending the night, though no one had bothered to tell Kurt that would be happening. Which meant he was obligated to be okay with spending the night under the same roof as his ex. It also meant that everyone would be focused on Blaine for the rest of the time Kurt was there, and he would be pinned down in his room and blamed for being ‘cold’ if he didn’t socialize. Blaine would be at dinner, at breakfast, in the bathroom and the shower, hanging around the house, lurking around Kurt’s room, probably go with them to the airport.

He might try to  _propose_  there.

“What’s he doing here?” Kurt heard himself say, in a tone both loud and strident. 

Heads turned and frowns fixed on him.

“We were hanging out with the Glee guys, and Blaine just stayed over for a sleepover,” Sam said with a shrug. Like it just so happened. Like people weren’t, once again, assuming Kurt should be thrilled to have Blaine worm his way into every aspect of his life. Like Blaine hadn’t packed that duffle bag with intent.

_The image of his mother’s ornament twinkled in the corner of his eye, and he could hear the football game his father was watching with Blaine, and the two of them chatting, occasionally about the game, the team, about Blaine’s future. Kurt sat, quietly, trying to pretend his insides weren’t roiling._

_Oh, just another reason to not look forward to the holidays._

Kurt could see the disappointment in his father’s eyes now. But after the week he’d had- After the  _night_  he’d had, this was intolerable and his nerves had already been completely frayed. He didn’t have any more pretense  _left._  

He took two long strides to the duffle bag and started pawing through it.

“Hey…” Blaine protested softly. It must have dawned on him what Kurt would find in there a half-second later, because that was when he lunged forward and protested again. “Kurt, stop!”

“Kurt, what do y’think you’re  _doing_?” Burt said irritably. 

“What is  _wrong_ with you?” Blaine demanded.

Kurt’s fingers closed around a small, felt-covered box, and he turned to Blaine. Eyes narrowing, lips curling back, he rose slowly, and Blaine actually took a step backward.

Years of being pushed down, pushed back, having to be  _reasonable_  and all stiff upper lip, on top of  _this week_  and  _this night—_ Hell, on top of having to live  _this year_  of constant denial, betrayal, and bad news always chasing whatever  _tiny_  victories he might have…

Kurt couldn’t hold back any longer. He exploded.

“What’s wrong with  _me_? Are you out of your  _mind_?” Kurt shouted. “Would you like a freakin’ PowerPoint presentation?”

Blaine startled and almost fell back into Burt’s lap. “Kurt-”

“Don’t! Don’t you even  _dare_! I’m not listening to whatever lies spew out of your mouth next!”

“Kurt!” Burt boomed. “Calm  _down_. We can settle this-”

Kurt ignored him and drilled into Blaine’s face with his gaze. He held up the box. “Did you  _really_ think this would fix everything? What were you going to do? Make this big public proposal? Then I’m the bad guy if I point out that we’re not even  _together_? That I can’t  _possibly_  want this? That it’s not  _fair_  of you to ask this of me after swearing that you understand we’re just friends? That  _I have a friggin’ boyfriend_  is kind of down there on the list of all the reasons why this is  _wrong_ and  _selfish_!!”

Blaine’s defensive look told Kurt that this was exactly what Blaine had planned. “How can you be this mad just because I was  _thinking_  about it, Kurt? It’s romantic! It’s what we  _are_! Romantic, and spontaneous! And you weren’t listening to me,” Blaine accused. “Like always! You just never heard what I want or how I  _feel_ -”

“You _lied_! You set me up! You bring these two crazy old women to  _manipulate_  me and you turn my friends against me, and you tell me what you think I want to hear just so you can  _get in my pants_!” Kurt opened up the box and looked at the ring. Somehow, the girly design with a gaudy gold band and diamonds Kurt would  _never_  have worn even as a joke made him even angrier. He threw the ring across the room and pointed a finger in Blaine’s face. “You can’t  _buy me back_ , Blaine. You can’t  _force me_  to get back together with you by sliming your way so  _far_  into my life that I have to say yes or be ostracized by all my family and friends who  _love you more_. I’m not going to let you do that to me.” 

He set his jaw and lifted his chin regally. “I’m  _stronger_ than that. And you are  _no_  match for  _me._ ”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Burt put his hand on Blaine’s shoulder and pulled him back, putting a little space between the two of them. “Look, I know this was a bad idea, Kurt, but I’m  _sure_  he didn’t mean all  _that_.”

Kurt watched his father for a moment and straightened his back. He felt the fire drain from him. His brows furrowed as his eyes looked over Burt, trying to make sense of the words of this man he’d spent so much time caring for and trying to make proud. Through his numbness, he registered a tear on his cheek.

“ _I’m_ your son,” he said in a hollow voice. 

“What? Kurt, I know that-”

“You  _knew_.” His voice had diminished to a whisper. It wasn’t a question. “You knew that he was going to propose, and you didn’t tell  _me_.”

“If I’d thought he was really gonna do it, I would’ve given ya a heads up,” Burt argued. “But I thought after he asked for your hand-”

Kurt covered his mouth and tried hard not to burst into both tears and laughter at once.

“-he’d cool down a little, and just try to let things play themselves out.”

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.” Kurt’s voice was getting loud again. “I can’t believe you’re on his  _side_!”

“I’m not on anyone’s side!” Burt snapped.

“ _Yes_ , you are!” Kurt flung one hand in Blaine’s direction. “Or you wouldn’t feel so justified in betraying me like this! And you should be on  _my side._  Even if I don’t tell you the whole story about the break up. Even if he’s Jesus Christ himself! Which he’s _not._ How can you keep his secrets for him?  _From_ ** _me_** _._  How can you stand there and- and- You know what?” Kurt made a quick shake of his head. “I can do a  _lot_ ** _better_** _than him_!”

Kurt looked up at the ceiling and exhaled loudly. 

“Kurt, you need to  _calm down_ ,” Burt said.

“Burt,” Carole warned, speaking for the first time. Kurt had forgotten she was there. 

“I want him out of the house!” Kurt said. He turned and headed for the stairs.

“Kurt!” Burt called after him.

“I don’t want him in this house!” Kurt turned his head to give Blaine another look that caused the boy to wrinkle his nose in indignation even as he stepped backward seeking safety from Kurt’s wrath. “He’s a liar, and a manipulator, and a cheater, and I am  _done_ with him! Save the ring, and marry  _yourself_ , Blaine!”

And with that he flew up the stairs and into his room, slamming the door as hard as he could. His heart was pounding so hard that he could feel his body shaking. His hands wouldn’t be still, either, and he sunk to the floor and gave into intense sobs. He’d cried a bit earlier at the restaurant, but those paltry tears had nothing on what was purging from him now. He was so angry and hurt that he felt outside of his own body, which grieved against his will. It seemed to be punishment for denying it this release for so long. He genuinely hoped no one downstairs could hear him, but matters were beyond the point of no return, now.

“Kurt?” There was a rap against the door and his father voice came muffled though the wood.

Kurt covered his mouth with both hands, then reached up with one to lock the door and slunk across the room so his father couldn’t hear his shaky breathing.

“C’mon, Kurt. Lemme in.” 

Kurt swallowed and tried to take in some air. This was  _not_  the careful, calculated extraction of Blaine from their lives that he had planned.

“Look, I never thought he’d _go through_  with the dumb ass idea. I  _really_  didn’t. I just thought it was this wild hair he’d gotten with all this positive stuff in the media about gay marriage, and I thought telling you would just make it worse. Especially if you  _did_ eventually want to get back together-”

“That’s not your call,” Kurt said in a rough voice. No hiding that he’d been crying. He sounded like gravel.

“No. No, you’re right about that.” His voice grew quieter. “I’m sorry, Kurt. I never wanted to ‘betray you’. I never meant anything like that. You know I love you more than anything.”

“I know you love me,” Kurt said. “I’m just not always sure you  _like_  me.”

His father was quiet for just long enough that Kurt curled over again and tried to release his tears just a little more softly.

“I know it’s rough between you and me, but… we’ve gotten better, haven’t we? We had a good time at Christmas, you and me? Going to see that show together?”

Kurt didn’t answer. He couldn’t force any more words through his throat. He hated to hear that hurt tone in his father’s voice, no matter what had caused it.

“We can spend time together just as well as Finn and I do, right?” Burt continued, almost pleading. “And you stick around for the car stuff. We have that.”

Kurt closed his eyes tightly and tried to make himself breathe normally.

“I’m sorry you feel that way, Kurt. We’ll work on it,  _promise_. I’m not givin’ up on us,” Burt insisted. He paused. “Guess you wanna be alone… Can we talk later? I don’t want you on a plane with things like they are.”

Kurt pushed himself off the floor and croaked out, “I don’t either.”

“Okay, Then… I’ll give you some time…” Now Burt’s voice was choking up, too, which made it even harder for Kurt to make the tears stop. “We’ll talk… You just relax, okay?”

“‘Kay,” Kurt’s voice squeaked a little. His cheeks would’ve flushed, if they weren’t already bright red from sobs and anger he couldn’t seem to quell.

“I love you,” Burt insisted. Then Kurt could hear his footsteps on the stairs.

Kurt got to his feet, took a look at the blotchy sob-monster in the mirror, and went to lie on his bed, flopping down bonelessly. Slipping his hand into his pocket and dialing Adam was almost instinctive, though he still couldn’t speak or breathe properly, and he curled up on his side, shaking.

“What’s wrong?” Adam said as soon as he heard Kurt’s voice. “Kurt, have you been crying? What  _happened_ , love?”

Kurt couldn’t manage right away, so he begged Adam to just tell him things that had been going on, or to complain about a movie, or talk about  _Downtown Abby_  or  _Doctor Who_ , or even to just sing to him.

So for over twenty minutes, Adam obliged, and Kurt let the rich whiskey and razorblades voice sooth him while he got his grounding back, just enough to explain to Adam everything that had happened.

—-

_10:20pm, Saturday_

Kurt opened his door for Carole when he saw movement under the gap between the hard wood and the door. She handed him a plate with a sandwich, told him he didn’t have to say anything, but she’d really like him to drink some water, and asked if he wanted anything. He thanked her and was content to just sit with her for a bit. She must’ve guessed that he wasn’t ready to have a talk with anyone about this, but she stayed and, to his surprise, asked him tentatively if he’d mentioned the boy he was dating before.

He had to honestly admit that he hadn’t really talked about Adam around them yet, other than with Finn.

Carole said that Adam sounded like a strong name, and she hoped they’d get to see him when they came up to New York.

After that brief visit, Kurt tried to settle himself, but there was no settling. He slipped out to take a shower and slipped back, then called Adam again, while packing, and bothered him with about an hour of conversation about the next Doctor and Adam did his impressions of various Doctors for him, some of which Kurt wasn’t even familiar with, but he laughed anyway.

Kurt missed Adam so much that his  _bones_  ached. He smiled a little at the dramatic image, because he was starting to become a romantic again, and that road led nowhere good. He sat by his vanity and started up his skincare regime. Personal distress was no reason to let oneself go. Or so he told himself. He wasn’t sure how he would sleep without Adam’s arms around him. Or Bruce’s. Adam was better, but Bruce didn’t drool on him.

Kurt finally went to bed, hoping to wake early, have a serious talk with his father to set things right, and then be on his way back to his life in New York, and Adam. He would think twice about any long trips back to Lima.


	2. Part Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Triggers for sexual assault.

_Kurt_

_2:11am, Sunday_

 

Kurt woke abruptly, feeling another presence in his bed. He froze for a moment, wondering if it might not be Sam’s cat. While the fickle creature seemed to like Kurt, she was prone to going from deep purrs to growling and biting in a matter of nanoseconds. When the figure in the dark drew closer, however, he could see that it was much larger. He reached over to the nightstand and flipped on a light.

 

“Blaine, what are you  _doing_?” Kurt demanded grumpily. He scrunched his nose up and squinted at the light, but his glower was  _all_  for Blaine. “It’s…” He looked around for his phone to look at the time, but couldn’t remember where he put it. “It’s friggin’  _late._ Go back to Sam’s bedroom.”

 

“I don’t want to be in Sam’s bed!” Blaine objected, looking to the side strangely. 

 

Kurt blinked and scowled. “Then go… anywhere else.”

 

“Kurt, please,  _please_.” Blaine looked behind him quickly, then he set the small felt box on Kurt’s nightstand and looked into Kurt’s eyes. “You  _have_  to listen, just for a minute.”

 

“I’m timing you,” Kurt warned. He pulled a pillow in front of him and squeezed it.

 

“I know that the idea for the proposal was a  _little_  presumptuous, and- and too soon! But I really,  _really_  just wanted to have the chance to tell you how I really feel-”

 

“Fifty-seconds.”

 

 “Kurt!”

 

“Forty-eight.”

 

“And what I feel is that I  _love you_ , and I can’t  _stand_  the thought of you being so far away, and if you found someone else-”

 

“ _Blaine_ ,” Kurt muttered. He  _never_  acknowledged Adam. That should’ve been a sign… of  _something_. Out of sight, out of mind.

 

“I just don’t know what I’d do, okay? You were my  _everything_ , and then you _left me_ , and I was all alone, and I didn’t know how to handle it.”

 

“ _You_ told me to go. In song,” Kurt pointed out. “Do you  _remember_  what you sang?”

 

“I remember. But it was a mistake.” Blaine shook his head and tented his brows miserably. “You leaving, and me… what I did was bad, Kurt, but can you ever  _forgive_ me? You  _have_ to forgive me! I  _know_  we’re meant to be together. We’re soul mates! And I think  _you_  know it, too. If we can just get past this…”

 

Kurt was deliberately looking down, deliberately not meeting Blaine’s eyes. No good would come from letting them catch him; they were searching for Kurt’s and any slight sign on Kurt’s face that everything was going to be okay

 

What Santana had said earlier about Kurt being allowed to decide what kind of relationship they had was completely correct. If one of his girl friends had this problem, he knew exactly what he would tell her. He had to set the boundaries. He had to be firm, and honest, and unapologetic.  _Right now._  There was no higher road here. If he gave Blaine any leeway, he’d just keep pushing and pushing to get his way.

 

“I forgave you  _just enough_  to try to be friends, Blaine,” Kurt said slowly. “But considering everything, I don’t think we should even try to be that.”

 

“What?” Blaine’s eyes narrowed.

 

“I don’t think we can be friends,” Kurt forced himself to keep speaking. He forced himself not to  _hedge_ , or put qualifiers on this. “I don’t trust you to be my boyfriend, and now I don’t trust you as a friend not to try to manipulate me and the people around me. Honey, we’re  _bad_  for each other. And I have a bad habit of forgiving people before they’ve even made an effort to stop hurting me, so I  _know_  that I can’t just keep going around with you and hoping you’ll shape up. This is it. We’re over.”

 

“No,  _no_!” Blaine cried. “No, Kurt, it can work. It can work! What are you saying? Of course we can be friends! We’re  _best friends_.”

 

“I don’t think we  _are_ , Blaine. I think we’re codependent. I think we’re pretty fucked up!”

 

“You didn’t feel that way on Valentine’s Day,” Blaine said, suddenly angry.

 

“Valentine’s Day was a  _mistake_. And I’m sorry if that ‘led you on’ or whatever, but I  _told you_ many,  _many_ times that I didn’t want anything more-”

 

“No!” Blaine rose onto his knees and grabbed Kurt’s arm. “You felt it! When we were together, you  _felt_  how we belong together. I  _know_ you did, Kurt. You can’t deny it.”

 

“I’m denying it. I felt an orgasm, that’s what I felt!” Kurt argued, jerking his arm away from Blaine. “And that’s  _all_ I felt.”

 

“ _No_ ,” Blaine insisted as his grip tightened.

 

“Ow! Blaine, stop it!” Kurt hissed. He looked at the door.

 

“No, you felt it. You know we were meant to be together! Why are you being like this? Why are you lying to yourself?” Blaine gave Kurt his wide, puppy eyes and twisted his lips in hurt.

 

“I’m not lying. Even if you don’t want to hear it, I’m just trying to be as honest with you as I can,” Kurt said. 

 

“You felt it,” Blaine said again, as though deciding something for himself.  “And you’ll feel it again.”

 

Then he swooped in. He came at Kurt so fast that their lips collided and their teeth clicked. Kurt pulled back, but he only hit the headboard, and Blaine’s other hand came down on his other wrist. Kurt kept wriggling his arms around, but to no avail. Blaine was determined to hold him there, and Kurt had no leverage to free himself from this position. 

 

“Blaine,  _sto_ -”

 

His protests were cut off with another kiss. Kurt could taste the beer on his breath.

 

“See?” Blaine said breathlessly in between kisses. “See-” Kiss. “You feel it-” Kiss. “-when we’re  _together_.”

 

Panicked, Kurt thrashed his arms wildly, and when that failed, he kicked at Blaine’s legs, causing Blaine to jump.

 

“What are you  _doing_?” he demanded.

 

“Please! Stop… Blaine! Stop!  _Please_!”

 

Kurt couldn’t follow the next few moments, even in his thoughts. He jerked and Blaine pulled back. He squirmed to the side, and Blaine repositioned himself over him. They fought back and forth, with Blaine trying to squelch resistance from Kurt, and Kurt struggling to get out of Blaine’s grip without hurting either one of them and, sporadically, begging him to stop.

 

Then his knee dug into Blaine’s stomach, and Kurt felt himself shoved back forcefully. There was a loud thud, and everything in front of his eyes lost focus for a moment, except for little twinkling sparks dancing before him.

 

Stunned, Kurt went limp, feeling his heart pounding in his chest and blood surging in his head, which felt too heavy to lift. So he just watched the little sparks pulsing in front of him, like threads of light weaving in and out of reality.

 

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed when he’d collected himself, but he could feel Blaine’s hand between his legs and the breeze of the AC against his bare thighs.

 

“GET OFF OF ME!” Kurt screamed suddenly.

 

Blaine was startled, but didn’t get up. He looked up with concern written on his brow and cupped Kurt’s cheek tenderly. “Kurt, I love-”

 

Part of Kurt, in the back of his brain, tisk-tisked as Kurt gave up his vow of nonviolence and sunk his teeth deep into Blaine’s palm.

 

“Ahhh!”

  
Kurt’s knee came up again, this time not missing its target. Blaine howled, while a constant stream of anger poured out of Kurt’s mouth, and he flailed and scratched like a cat on crack. Then a freed open palm collided with a loud  _thwack_  against Blaine’s face, and as Blaine started to reel backward, Kurt flung himself out of the bed, tottered dizzily on his feet, and crashed to the floor.

 

Blaine looked angrily down at him from the bed. “What are you doing?”

 

“GET AWAY FROM ME!” Kurt didn’t even stop to pull his pajama bottoms and underwear up. He grasped around for something to wield, found a handle to grip, pulled it out, and pointed the tip of his sai sword at Blaine. “GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT!”

 

As Blaine stumbled off the bed, Sam appeared in the door, eyes wide and stunned.

 

“Dude,  _what are you doing_?”

 

Then there was the sound of thundering on steps, and Kurt let his adrenaline slip away. He continued to point his sword at Blaine, but rested his aching head against the dresser. 

 

His father appeared behind Sam, took one look at Blaine, and then pulled Sam physically out of the way to get to Kurt’s side.

 

“What happened? Are you okay?” Burt demanded. His voice was both rough and loud and grew oddly high on the last syllable.

 

Kurt found that his words that night must have run out, now being limited to screaming short orders and obscenities, and he said nothing as he stared into his father’s eyes and breathed in fitful bursts like a captured and wounded animal.

 

Burt’s heavy hand touched Kurt’s hair, and though it hurt, it was a comfort. Burt was turning his gaze to Blaine now, and he seemed torn between staying by Kurt’s side and going after Blaine.

 

“That the  _Hell_  did you do?” Burt boomed. 

 

“We were just fooling around-” Blaine protested.

 

“I CAN FRIGGIN’ SEE THAT!”

 

Kurt looked at Blaine, then down at himself. Cheeks burning, he dropped the sword and frantically tried to pull up his pajama bottoms and  _cover himself_ , then clasped the fabric of his top his chest and folded over on himself. If he could just… if he could just make things slow down a  _little_ , he could explain, and get up, and tell Blaine he should go home and not drink anymore-

 

The loud bark of anger drew Kurt’s attention. Burt had Blaine by the collar, and Sam was saying something, and Carole was there now, yelling just as loudly and waving her hands. 

  
“I didn’t! I didn’t!” Blaine yelped.

 

“Because he  _stopped you_ , y’little shithead!”

 

Burt dropped Blaine, finally, and Blaine scuttled out the door and down the stairs so fast that Kurt could hear him stumble a few times.

 

Kurt stared at his father’s back, which was bowed over as the man breathed heavily, and Carole as her hand fluttered around her mouth like a little bird. Sam just stood there, and stared.

 

“We weren’t fooling around.” The words came up from Kurt’s throat, wobbly and dazed and overly squeaky.

 

Their eyes turned to him. Carole came to his side first.

 

“Oh, honey, we  _know_.” She petted his cheek, then kissed it. “We know that.”

 

“He was- was… He was there-” His hand jerked forward as if to point to the bed. “I turned on my light…?”

 

What were these words coming out of his mouth? Why could he just tell them what happened? He willed his thoughts to either congeal into human speech or just be  _still_ for a few minutes, but they floated around and slipped through his grasp.

 

Then his father was at his side, and he was hugging the stuffing out of him.

 

“God, Kurt, I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry.”

 

“I told him to go back to- back to Sam’s room,” Kurt babbled.

 

“Sam’s room?” Sam frowned. “No, he went  _home_  after you found the ring. He must’ve snuck back into the house.”

 

“Oh…” Kurt reached up with one hand and patted his father’s back. 

 

Carole petted Kurt’s hair for a moment, then frowned and moved her fingers over the back of his head slowly.

 

“Ah…!” Kurt gasped softly.

 

“Kurt, did he hurt you?” Carole whispered.

 

“I don’t… He was here and I turned on the light…” Kurt began. He creased one brow. That wasn’t right. That’s not what he wanted to say.

 

Burt sat back. “ _What_? What did he  _do_? I’m callin’ the police.”

 

“No, no!” Kurt held his hands up. The fingers of one hand curled around his father’s collar. “Please.”

 

“Just wait a minute, Burt.” Carole sat by Kurt’s side and touched his chin lightly. “I’m going to look at your eyes, okay?”

 

“Okay?”

 

Carole leaned forward and stared into his eyes intensely. “I think he might have a concussion. He has a lump on the back of his head, but his pupils haven’t blown. Kurt,” she said gently. “Did Blaine hit you?”

 

“He held me… down.” Kurt reached up slowly and felt over his tender, throbbing scalp.

 

“Did you black out?” she asked.

 

“No… No, but…” Kurt frowned. “I don’t know how to explain…”

 

Burt rose and looked around the bed. “No weapon… Looks like he hit the headboard. I can see a little blood.”

 

Carole rubbed Kurt’s back. “Why don’t we get something on your head? Burt, could you make some coffee?”

 

“Coffee?” He scowled at her.

 

“He might have a concussion,” Carole whispered, but not very softly. 

 

When she reached for him, Kurt stiffened and jerked backward, slamming into the dresser. She rose quickly and stepped back, looking all the more alarmed. His father crouched down and slowly helped him to his feet, and then guided him, staying very close, with a hand on his back.

 

“I’m so sorry,” Sam muttered as they walked past.

 

“What did you do?” Kurt asked.

 

Sam stared at him as they passed, but said nothing. 

 

—-

 

Carole and his father quizzed him with random, simple questions when they got him seated in the kitchen. What is your full name? What is your birthday? What is Lady Gaga’s real name? How long did Phantom of the Opera run? That sort of thing, which seemed purposeless, until Carole pressed something cold against the back of his head, and Kurt remembered again that he’d wonked his skull against his bedpost trying to keep Blaine from…

 

He blinked a few times as his chest grew tight. He  _knew_  what Blaine had been trying to do. He’d done it before. How the hell hadn’t he known the minute he saw Blaine in his room? How hadn’t he guessed this was where things would lead if he tried to be friends with Blaine?

 

Burt started to make some coffee, and Kurt moved to go help him, but Carole put a hand on his shoulder and begged him to just relax and try to stay calm. But despite his shaking, he was calm. Numb, even. She moved her hand away.

 

“I’m sorry,” she whispered and set down the ice pack.

 

When Finn appeared in the kitchen, Kurt felt confused again. He hadn’t seen him all night, and it felt like he should have been surer of who was in the house. Blaine had left, then come back, apparently, and Finn had been there? That was right… His car had been outside…

 

Burt set coffee down in front of Kurt, and he stared at it blankly, before tuning himself back into their frequency.

 

“Thanks,” he said. He slid his fingers around the sides of the mug and let the warmth seep into his hands.

 

Coffee. To keep him up. In case he had a concussion and needed to be kept awake. He looked up to see Finn sitting by him now, and he pressed his lips into a mirthless smile. Because Finn was there, and Burt and Carole were there. Nothing else could happen, or so he told himself.

 

“We can still call the police,” Burt said.

 

“No. No, I don’t want to do that,” Kurt said quickly.

 

Burt seemed surprised to hear him speak so readily… or he was surprised that Kurt didn’t want the police involved. Kurt couldn’t imagine that would go well for him. He just had a bump on the head. Blaine had scratches on him and bite marks and probably a bruise from how hard Kurt had slapped him. Besides, the authorities in this town had never been that sympathetic with him before, and Blaine’s father was one of the scariest lawyers on the planet.

 

“Honey, if you need some time to think about it-” Carole said.

 

“I don’t. I don’t want to. They’ll just…” Kurt shook his head repeatedly. “I just want this to go away. I can go  _home_  and get back to living my life.”

 

He kept his eyes on his coffee. He was a little afraid that his father and Carole would be disappointed in him. He should probably press charges, but the notion of pressing charges against Blaine was so foreign in his mind. He could hardly separate what had happened tonight from other instances with Blaine. But then, they had been a _couple_. Then, he’d felt he’d calculated something wrong, or not been giving Blaine what he needed. But was it really so different, he wondered, just because they weren’t a couple now?

 

He  _could_  press charges. Couldn’t he? He’d told Blaine no… hadn’t he? Now that he was down here, his memory was starting to get fuzzy. But they  _had_  been dating, not recently, but before. And he  _had_  slept with Blaine since then. What if Blaine told them that Kurt had wanted him in there? Blaine probably believed that, even after being on the wrong end of a sword. What if he told them that Kurt had been leading Blaine on and they decided Kurt should’ve stopped it before it got that far? Maybe Blaine would say the knock against the headboard was just an accident while they were fooling around?

 

Kurt suddenly pulled his pajama sleeve down and scanned for bruises. He didn’t see anything. Maybe they’d appear later. Maybe not. Maybe Blaine would get home and file charges against  _Kurt,_ and he’d have to come back for an arraignment- 

 

“What’s uh…” 

 

Finn’s voice broke his concentration, and Kurt looked up with wide eyes. Finn smiled lopsidedly and reached over to touch Kurt’s pale wrist. His smile faded as he turned it over gently.

 

There it was, the bruise starting to form. Blaine’s imprint on his pale skin.

 

“Sorry, I didn’t hear what you…” Kurt murmured. “He held me… I mean, I  _think…_ ”

 

“S’okay. It’s late. I was just babbling anyway.”

 

“No, I want to hear. I’ve  _missed_  you.” His words sounded a little more desperate than he’d meant them, but Finn just smiled and moved his hand down so that he could hold Kurt’s carefully, then started talking again. 

 

Kurt’s head felt foggy and full, and he blinked sleepily, and sipped his coffee, because his dad was still looking at him with concern. The only sounds in the house were Burt and Carole murmuring to each other and Finn talking to  _him_. Just telling him what had happened at college, like he would have whenever he and Kurt met up next. So it was the normal thing to be doing. Maybe not at two or three or whenever in the morning, but it was normal.

 

It was what was supposed to happen.

 

Finn’s brow furrowed and he trailed off from his story… or whatever he had been saying. Granted, Kurt couldn’t follow it, but he liked to hear him talk. He couldn’t even think about calling Adam right now. Adam had work in the morning, and it would just worry him even more…

 

Adam. How could he tell all of this to  _Adam_? His brain wouldn’t even let him begin to speculate. It just froze on Adam’s concerned face when Kurt was upset over something so stupid as a movie musical.

 

“Mom, are we gonna take him to the hospital?” Finn asked.

 

Kurt’s ears perked at the question. “No, no, I don’t need to go to the hospital,” he said, shaking his head.

 

“We were talking about that, Finn,” Carole said quietly. “I think so. As soon as Kurt is a little calmer.”

 

“I’m calm,” Kurt protested. “And I  _don’t_  need to go.”

 

Finn looked at Kurt. “Dude. I’ve been a football player since junior high. You’ve got a concussion.” He reached over for Kurt’s hand. “Plus, you hurt your wrist-”

 

Kurt pulled away. “I can’t- I  _don’t_  need to go. I have a flight in the morning!”

 

“Christ, Kurt, I can call the airline and get you a later flight,” Burt snapped.

 

“I feel fine,” Kurt objected half-heartedly. Fine was so far from how he felt; it wasn’t even in the same galaxy.

 

“We’ll try to see that you make your flight,” Carole said decisively. “Are you packed?”

 

Had he packed? “Yeah.”

 

“Then I’ll go get you something to wear, and we’ll load up the car.” She came over and kissed his forehead. 

 

Kurt sipped his coffee, wishing he could just go back to sleep and wake up back home.

 

—-

 

There was no more sleep that night. Carole had put his coffee in a thermos for the trip to the hospital, and they’d quizzed him all the way. The hospital was a cold, brightly lit environment. He’d gotten a room fairly quickly, and he was at no point alone. Someone was always with him, making sure he stayed awake, often mediating between him and the nurses, who were very curious about his injuries and documented each bruise in addition to the head injury. Then, a doctor spoke to him, and they got him in for a CT scan around 5:30am. As Kurt had told them, he was fine. Well, fine with a concussion, but there was no bleeding, and the doctors said he should be okay to fly.

 

In the car on the way to the airport, Kurt fell dead asleep against Finn’s shoulder. He knew nothing until the car was pulling to a stop in front of the doors.

 

“Go on in. I’m gonna park the car,” Burt said.

 

So the three of them went inside, with Finn trying to act like a head injury made Kurt’s arms stop working, and Carole slipping in front of him to take care of luggage expenses. After making it through the line, the three of them discussed a possible visit to New York while waiting.

 

Kurt tried not to think about the next part. The part where he had to leave his family. Of course, he wanted to go home. He wanted it more than he could possibly say. But every time he had to leave his loved ones, he felt the separation more keenly as it approached. He’d already spent so much time crying. It seemed unfair for him to have to do it again.

 

When his father came in the door, Kurt felt his cheeks growing warm. They’d never had that talk. And that made Kurt even more anxious. He couldn’t leave things unresolved with his father and just leave. The last time he’d done that, his father had suffered a  _heart attack_. Even though his cancer was in remission, Kurt didn’t want any slim chance of that happening to them again.

 

“Dad,” he said as Burt walked up to them. He closed his eyes. The words jumbled in his brain. Of course, of  _course_ , that happened right now. His head was clearer than it had been a few hours ago, but he was still  _so tired._

 

Burt placed a hand on Kurt’s shoulder and looked into his eyes. “Never got to have our talk, huh?”

 

Kurt nodded and pressed his lips together.

“Look. I dunno really know what to say. I been thinkin’ about it all night. I could say I’m sorry, but I don’t really think that cuts it. I could say we shoulda talked a few days ago, or more like, I shoulda  _listened_ a few days ago to what you were tryin’ to tell me…”

 

“I wasn’t trying very hard,” Kurt admitted. “It’s just… I don’t want to fight. Not when I get so little time with you guys as it is, and you’ve been through so much with your health-”

 

“You shouldn’t have to  _scream_  just to get through to me!” Burt looked up at the ceiling and put his hands on his hips.

 

Seeing that his father was starting to get emotional did  _nothing_ to Kurt’s ability to keep control. He tried to slow everything down. Deep breaths.

 

“Dad,” Kurt murmured.

 

“I failed you,” Burt said.

 

“Burt, no,” Carole said.

 

“How do you  _not see_ somethin’ like that comin’? How do you stand there and praise the guy who’s gonna hurt your son that way?” Burt looked to Carole, then shook his head and turned back to Kurt.

 

“Dad, it’s not your fault. I don’t know how  _you_ could’ve known.” Kurt swallowed and looked away. “I should’ve um, set clearer boundaries, or, or not  _talked_  to him last night when he came into my room… Or stop having contact with him sooner.  _Much_ sooner. I don’t know.”

 

“Well, it’s not  _your_  fault either.” Finn stepped closer and touched his back carefully. “Don’t say that.”

 

“I know, but I’ve not exactly… I mean, at the wedding…”

 

“I don’t know what you  _said_  at the wedding.” Finn paused and raised his brow, implying that he knew what Kurt had  _done_ at the wedding. “But I heard with my own ears what you said last night, and you couldn’t’ve been clearer. He had no right to just sneak into the house, and your room, full stop. So don’t try to take any of that on yourself, because you’ve got enough to deal with.”

 

Kurt licked his lips and looked down at the shiny (but dirty) floor. It was a lot for him to sort out. He’d felt conflicted after the Scandals incident, but not like this. Maybe it was the head injury. Maybe it was that Blaine had been able to get his pants off, and Kurt had already been so angry.

 

Burt’s arms enveloped Kurt tightly, and Kurt wrinkled his nose, feeling the tears starting to threaten. 

 

“Please. Do me a favor, huh?” Burt said. His big hand rubbed up and down Kurt’s back. “When you get home? Find somebody to talk to?”

 

“Talk to?” 

 

“Not that I don’t think your friends can’t handle it or anything, but…” Burt gave him one more pat then pulled back and squeezed his shoulders. “New York’s a big city. There’s gotta be a therapist out there you could hash some stuff out with.”

 

Kurt’s throat kept growing tighter. A tear escaped down the side of his face. “I promise to think about it,” he offered.

 

Burt bunched his lips together, not looking at all happy with that answer, but he nodded. “Look, I know you’ve gotta catch your flight…”

 

“Yeah, I um…” Kurt pressed his knuckle to his lips and lifted his chin. 

 

“It’s okay,” Burt said. “We don’t have to thrash all of this out right now.”

 

“But we’ll be there if you feel like talking,” Carole added quietly.

 

“And we’re gonna miss you. I wish you didn’t have to go,” Finn said.

 

Kurt didn’t want to say that he didn’t think he’d  _survive_  a few more days in Lima. But he didn’t want to leave them right now, either. This was even harder than last time.

 

The tears came. He’d known they would, and he’d fought, some. He tried to cover his mouth, and then laughed a little, causing his family to smile. Tears from Kurt, for something like this,  _that_ was normal. And they needed all the normal they could get.

 

They needed to talk, though. As a family, they needed to sit down together, and Kurt needed to have a real conversation with his father about all of this. But for now, he just clung to him, and let him know how much he cared. They could resolve the other problems between them later, hopefully. Maybe on that trip Carole kept mentioning. 

 

After hugging his father again, he hugged Carole, and then Finn. He lingered in his brother’s arms, and then he wiped his eyes and tried to collect himself. His head was throbbing again, and he needed to get through security and onto a plane.

 

“Gimme a call when you get in, huh?” Finn said. 

 

Kurt nodded. Burt gave Kurt’s hand a squeeze as he started to leave, and Kurt looked back.

 

“From now on,” Burt said in a voice determined to stay steady, “I’m always on your side. No matter what.”

 

Kurt didn’t really believe that. Since they were both human and prone to imperfections, being wrong, and a very Hummelian trait of stubbornness. But the gesture meant the world to Kurt. It meant that, while Burt obviously hadn’t had the time to think this whole thing over (who had?), he  _believed_ Kurt now. However that had come to pass, Kurt really needed it.

 

“Me too,” Kurt mouthed, trying to keep from crying again. He hated crying on the way through security. People stared, as though leaving family wasn’t a perfectly valid reason to snot up. In a way, crying on the subway was much more private. If you were inclined to weep in public places.

 

He let go and released a shaky breath, then made his way towards security, looking back a few times to wave. Then he was in line, flashing ID, and preparing to strip for the good US of A.

 

 What a  _trip_.


	3. Part Three

_Adam_

_4:38pm, Sunday_

 

“What brought out the Mama Tana? I thought it was ‘Auntie Snixx’ this week,” Rachel asked. Adam could hear her voice from the stairwell, where he was slowly ascending, with Kurt dozing in his arms. 

 

“It’s been a rough week,” Santana replied. Her voice betrayed a weariness, but she was nowhere near inebriation. Something seemed to have leeched away her buzz.

 

Unlike the dozing man in his arms.

 

When Adam had seen Kurt and Santana coming out of the terminal, his heart had swelled, and he’d risen to greet them. Kurt had shaken Santana’s shoulder excitedly and then come running toward him, almost falling along the way, but Adam stepped forward in time for Kurt to land in his arms. Kurt had squeezed him so tightly, burying his face into Adam’s shoulder. Adam was both a bit flushed and a bit chuffed at the public display.

 

Of course, drinking on the plane had left Kurt completely legless, but the sentiment was genuine. He’d looked up at Adam, cupped his face and just looked into his eyes, at once so raw and so intense. Adam had kissed his lips and slipped his arms around Kurt’s waist. 

 

“Good to be home?” Adam had teased.

 

“I don’t think I’d survive another day,” Kurt had replied.

 

He’d fallen asleep in the cab. And as endearingly sweet as Kurt’s obvious gratitude for home and his longing for Adam was, Adam could sense that something was off. Despite the drink, Kurt was holding his body more tightly, his body language was closed to everyone else, and he was frowning and moving his head around, like it pained him. Little details like that never went unnoticed. Not when the were about Kurt.

 

He kissed Kurt’s forehead as he ascended the final steps. Kurt wasn’t as tiny as he somehow made himself look at times. In certain outfits. He was nearly Adam’s height and made of long graceful limbs and sinewy muscle, so carrying him all the way up was possible, but a bit of a feat. However, knowing that Kurt likely hadn’t slept properly for roughly 35 hours gave Adam reason to let him sleep for as long as he was able.

 

_“I’m lacking inspiration what to sing next. I could serenade you with ‘I’ve Got a Lovely Bunch of Coconuts’.”_

 

_“My dad and I had a fight,” Kurt managed._

 

_Adam quieted and pulled his legs up into his chair to listen, now that Kurt had finally calmed enough to talk._

 

“Bless,” he murmured, making his way into the hallway. 

 

Kurt yawned and stretched and hung his arms around Adam’s neck. “Oh, wait… Where?”

 

“I reckoned I’d just take you to bed, love. If that’s alright. Are you hungry? I brought over some pickle and the cheddar you like.”

 

Kurt lifted his head and saw their open loft door. “Oh, you carried me up all this way?”

 

“I’ll expect a return of the favor the next time I’m out at the club getting pissed.” Adam chuckled and kissed his nose when Kurt looked at him. “So, food? Cheese and pickle? Or we could order in?”

 

He stepped into the apartment to see Santana by the stove, looking less than pleased, and Rachel having returned to her program. He’d made the first trip up himself with their luggage, leaving Santana to watch Kurt at the bottom of the stairs. She’d not made a bit of complaint, but rather, kept the same stern expression on the entire time. He’d wondered at first if she and Kurt hadn’t quarreled, but it didn’t feel that way. Something was bothering her,

 

“Not hungry…” Kurt muttered. 

 

“To bed, then!” Adam declared in a deep, butler-like tone, causing Kurt to laugh softly.

 

Adam brushed past the privacy curtain and deposited Kurt into bed. Kurt pressed his palms to his forehead and yawed widely, then looked up at him and sighed. 

 

“I wish I weren’t so tired. I’ve missed you.”

 

“Me too, love.” Adam sat on the edge of Kurt’s bed and reached over to unbutton Kurt’s shirt, but Kurt squirmed away, then flushed. “What?”

 

Kurt shook his head and gave a tight smile. “Nothing.” 

 

Adam scanned Kurt’s eyes for a moment, then moved down on the bed. “Can I do your shoes, then?”

 

“Yeah.” 

 

Kurt lay still for a moment, then started unbuttoning his own shirt. It only took a few moments to get him undressed, and Adam handed him a loose shirt to sleep in. Kurt didn’t often sleep in his regular clothes because they would wrinkle… and tended to be constricting. Once he was set in the t-shirt (which had been Adam’s, once upon a time) and a pair of pajama bottoms, Kurt fell asleep almost immediately. 

 

Adam stayed to watch him for a few moments, then went to make some tea.

 

When Kurt woke again, it was late, and Adam was getting into the bed with him. Kurt jumped back, shoving Adam  _hard_ , and then curled his legs up to his chest so fast that Adam started to look around for a snake in the bed.

 

“What? What is it?”

 

Kurt blinked, then looked embarrassed again. “Sorry! I’m  _sorry_ , Adam.”

 

“It’s  _okay_. I startled you. I didn’t… I didn’t mean to.” Adam tilted his head to the side. “Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?”

 

Kurt remained where he was for a moment, folded over on himself. He gently cupped the back of his head and sighed. Adam picked up the bottle of Ibuprofen he’d set on the nightstand and handed it over to Kurt, whose hands made a quick job of untwisting top and collecting several pills. He swallowed them dry.

 

Then he slowly crawled back into the bed, by Adam’s side, and allowed Adam’s arms to hold him. And then, with a whisper, not a bang, Kurt started to recount the events of the previous night, as his fingers busied themselves with the fabric of Adam’s night shirt, his hair, his skin.

 

Adam said nothing. But the shaking that started inside him worked its way outward, and Kurt’s eyes, first tentative, began to look slightly apologetic, which was completely and ridiculously strange.

 

“I’m not angry,” Adam said. “Well, I am. Clearly, I am. Very, very  _much._ ” He drew in a breath. “But not at you. Never. Never at you.”

 

“I didn’t think you would be. I just feel like… I did it  _wrong_ , or something. I think I made a mistake.”

 

“Kurt,  _no._ ” Adam kissed his forehead and brushed his hand very carefully over the back of Kurt’s head. “No, sweet, you didn’t do anything wrong.”

 

“I mean, because I didn’t…  _do_  anything. The first time I didn’t say anything to  _anyone_. And even now, I told my family not to call the police… I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. I don’t know how to do this.”

 

Adam considered that and nodded slowly. Because he had no idea what to do either. “I don’t think there’s a set way. But I’m glad you chose to tell me.”

 

“I told Santana, too, but…” Kurt cringed. “That was more the little bottles of liquor we slipped into our smoothies.”

 

“Love, you shouldn’t drink when you have a concussion,” Adam chided. He closed his eyes and shook his head. “I’m sorry-”

 

“Don’t be!” Kurt almost laughed. “Just… Don’t treat me like I’m glass, okay? My wrong doesn’t become right just because something bad happened. Please. Adam, I’m  _begging_ you. We don’t stop being  _us._ ”

 

Adam looked into Kurt’s eyes, which were searching him out for his reactions. And he felt, much like Kurt did, that they were all wrong. He didn’t have the resources to do this right. And it was more important that Adam behave rightly than Kurt. Kurt was the injured party. He was the one who needed support, and the one allowed to act irrationally at a time like this.

 

“How about I make tea. That I can do. I can make tea. Would you like  _tea_?” Adam smiled a little and touched Kurt’s side. 

 

“I’d  _love_  tea,” Kurt said, enunciating each word. “My heart’s going so fast. I don’t know if I can sleep, now.”

 

Adam rose from the bed and offered his hand. Kurt scooted around, then took it, and followed him into the kitchen with his arm around Adam’s back and his head resting on his shoulder.

 

“I don’t think…” Adam pulled out the kettle and filled it up. “I’m no expert, but it’s your choice whether you’d like to press charges. I don’t think you’ve done anything  _wrong_. There’s only what helps.”

 

Kurt nodded and crossed his arms over his chest. Adam set the kettle on the burner and turned back to him. Kurt reached up, his fingertips brushing against Adam’s face. He kissed him slowly and deliberately.

 

“I’m so sorry,” Adam muttered.

 

“We’re no good for each other. Me and Blaine. That I’m certain of. That I was right about. I just-” He sighed and shrugged. “-should’ve done it sooner.”

 

“And he should learn to take _‘no’_ for a bloody  _fucking_  answer,” Adam grumbled.

 

Kurt raised a brow and smiled crookedly. Then he pulled Adam closer for another kiss.

 

On his own end, Adam’s mind was running through the dozens of ways he might’ve  _been_  there when Kurt visited Lima. Might’ve blown off the classes he was already behind in and taken a leave from work to be there for Kurt. With him. Protect him.

 

Though it sounded like, but for an unfortunate angle and Kurt  _trusting_  Blaine not to hurt him, Kurt was quite capable of protecting himself. With a sword, even.

 

“Don’t cry,” Kurt said, stroking his thumb against Adam’s cheek. 

 

He touched his eyes, and he was indeed on the verge. It felt like his insides had been jerked out. And there was nothing he could do.

 

“Can I ask one thing?” Adam ventured.

 

Kurt tilted his head back. “Okay.” 

 

“Can I ask you to not let him in here?”

 

“I don’t plan on letting him near me again, so that’s not asking for too much at  _all._ ” 

 

“Well, if he  _does_  show up-” Santana padded in, wearing tiny shorts and a tank top. “-I’m gonna rip off one of his arms and  _beat_  his gel-encrusted  _skull_  in. So it’s in  _his_  best interests  _not_ to show his greasy ass around here.”

 

She crossed her arms, and Kurt laughed softly. Adam swiftly grabbed the kettle as it started to whistle, so not to wake another roommate. 

 

“I’m  _okay_ ,” Kurt told her.

 

Santana rolled her eyes. “Whatever, Unico.”

 

They stared at one another for several moments while Adam poured their tea, then added a cup for Santana and fetched a bag of the lemon zinger she fancied to go with the herbal anti-anxiety tea that Kurt had keeping on hand the past few weeks. She unfolded her arms, took a few steps forward, and gave Kurt a gentle hug. Kurt squeezed her in return and murmured an apology for not telling her about the concussion before getting on the plane and getting snockered.

 

She let go and put her hand on top of his head avoiding the bump and moved it left, then right. “Got to be careful of that noggin. You’re pretty enough to get by on your looks, but you’re  _not_ lucky enough.”

 

Kurt pinched his lips together and nodded.

 

They spoke no more of those events. Later, they would. Or rather, Adam knew for certain he and Kurt would be talking much more about it, and trying to navigate what came next, how to deal with the aftermath as it came at them. But for that night, the three of them went over to the futon and turned on a cartoon that Kurt had taken to lately. Kurt selecting episodes from their Tivo that would get a reaction out of Santana, who quickly informed Kurt that she was going to call him Prince Gumball for the rest of his life. She made such an excited noise over two of the girl characters that Rachel woke and joined the three of them. 

 

Adam went to fetch her some tea, and she insisted they watch something for adults.

 

“I don’t want to be an adult anymore. I think I’ve adulted enough for the rest of my life,” Kurt drawled. Then he called to the kitchen, “Adam, can I be immature now?”

 

Adam chuckled. He grabbed a box of off-brand cinnamon toast cereal off the top of the refrigerator and brought it and a couple of bowls with him to the futon.

 

“Eat, love.” Adam kissed the top of his head and put the box in his lap. “I don’t believe you’ve eaten all day.”

 

“I had a smoothie.” Kurt opened the box and poured some into his bowl. He handed the box off to Santana, who just dug in with her hand. Kurt picked a few pieces out of his bowl, eating them one by one, dry.

 

“Smoothies are hardly even  _food_ ,” Santana said with her mouth full. “And it was full of booze.”

 

“Gross, Santana,” Rachel objected. “Could you  _be_ more of a five year old?”

 

“Oh, whatever, princess. Kurt and I have been grown ups for so long, we should have a retirement plan. At least we’re  _paying_  our own way here.”

 

“That’s not fai- Hey!” Rachel held her hands up to fend off the cereal Santana was flinging at her. “Stoppit! Oh my God!”

 

Kurt rested his head back on the futon and shook with laughter.

 

While the girls fussed at one another and fought over the remote, Adam wondered if Kurt would share with Rachel what had happened. He’d admittedly only confessed to Santana because of the alcohol (and likely the head injury). It wasn’t fair, but Kurt  _had_ learned to cope with things on his own. And he’d learned too early. It was too ingrained in him for him to know how to ask for help. Granted, Rachel might not know how to give it, but Adam didn’t either.

 

“I don’t know if you need to hear this now, or if you will later,” Adam said under the din. “But I still love you.”

  
  
Kurt turned his head and stopped chewing. 

 

“You’re still  _you_ , and so I know you’ll be okay, because you’re very, very strong. And we’re still  _us_. And I  _won’t_  stop loving you because of this.”

 

Kurt’s brows knit together, and he sucked in his lower lip. Then, he said quietly, “Thank you. For saying that.”

 

“And if you get  _any_  anxieties about any of that, do please tell me, so I can reassure you. It’s  _not_  too much to ask.” Adam leaned in for a kiss, intending a peck, but getting much more. Kurt tasted of cinnamon, and he grasped the back of Adam’s neck with one hand. The other moved over his thigh, and Adam shuddered, but felt quiet warm.

 

“This  _apartment_  is the  _gayest_  place to ever  _gay_ ,” Santana said. “Seriously, guys?”

 

Adam and Kurt looked up to see Rachel and Santana standing in front of each other with pillows.

 

“I’m immune to your wiles, Lopez,” Kurt said.

 

“I’m immune to  _yours_ , Peebles,” Santana quipped back.

 

Rachel giggled and gave Santana a light swat with her pillow, then went to sit back down. “Okay, are we going to settle down? I have to go to class in the morning.”

 

“Like  _you_  haven’t woken  _us_   _all_ up with your endless morning whale impersonations,” Santana scoffed.

 

“Whale-? Excuse me!”

 

“If you two don’t pick something, I’m turning on  _Doctor Who_ ,” Adam threatened. “The original series.”

 

Rachel grabbed the remote and got to selecting.

 

_Kurt_

_2:03am, Monday_

 

He woke with another start and realized that Adam was sleeping against his shoulder. The girls had fallen asleep as well. Kurt suspected that his insomnia would be making a rousing comeback over the next few weeks, concussion notwithstanding.

 

He reached for his cell phone. He’d gone to pluck it out of his room in between shows, since Rachel and Santana had settled on each choosing one. But since the voicemail was full and there were an abundance of text messages, Kurt hadn’t felt up to looking at them.

 

Now he scrolled through, deleting every message that wasn’t from his family, Santana, Rachel, Adam, or work. That cut down the number of people he was required to engage with. He paused over Blaine’s message, sent around the time Kurt had been on his way to the hospital.

 

He deleted it and blocked Blaine’s number. He didn’t trust himself not to forgive, or try to  minimize his own hurt. He’d  _done_  that. He’d  _kept_  doing that. How else could he have gone to Blaine after their night at Scandals and been the one to apologize? How else could he have taken how he felt after that incident and pushed it to the side in favor of ‘protecting their relationship’? The more he thought about that ‘relationship’ the more it seemed to unravel. And the more disgusting Kurt felt. Even thinking about it made him want to make a mad dash for the shower.

 

Best to cut it off now. Better for the both of them.

 

Sam had sent an apology. Or a second apology, apparently. But Kurt had no idea why he was apologizing a second time, let alone a first, which he didn’t even remember. Must have been absorbed by the concussion. 

 

He chose Finn’s message and read it, smiling slightly as he did so.

 

_Hey little brother. Santana said you guys got in okay and were sleeping so I just wanted to leave you a message Feel better and take care of urself okay. Call when you can?_

 

Kurt constructed a reply and sent it off. When Finn’s reply came almost immediately, Kurt knew that Finn was still awake, so he called to see if he’d pick up.

 

“Hey! How’s your head, dude?”

 

“Still a little achy, but much clearer,” Kurt said quietly. He didn’t want to wake anyone else. But Kurt was grateful to be on the phone with Finn and surrounded by his dozing friends and love right now, since his body had seen fit to alert him that it was around the time he’d woken the night before with Blaine in his room.

 

He didn’t see how things would ever be the same. And he didn’t have a clue how to keep going. He couldn’t even pretend nothing was wrong, like he had before. He had to admit that was his most comfortable stance, pretending everything was okay.

 

But Santana intentionally play-fighting with Rachel, and having Adam near, and chatting with his brother about their lives (even if Finn had said some of it last night and Kurt couldn’t remember)— that helped. It wasn’t great. He was still reeling. But it helped to have these normal things going on around him, with the people he knew. He didn’t know if that was good or bad. He hoped it meant that the days would start to get easier, instead of sprawling out in front of him like unending obstacle courses.

 

“I should get to sleep. I have to commute to school tomorrow,” Finn admitted.

 

“You shouldn’t have talked to me for an hour, then.”  


 

“I missed ya. Anyway, we don’t get enough chances to hang. I figured out when I have a break, though. I’ll come up. Before the parents. You can introduce me to Adam.”

 

“I think he’d like that. He must feel like my dirty little secret, not going home this time.”

 

“I bet he feels more than that,” Finn said.

 

“Well, I didn’t leave him on purpose. He’s trying to graduate this semester.”

 

“I didn’t mean, like… I think he probably wishes he had been there with you, is all.”

 

Kurt looked down on Adam’s soft curls, spilling over his forehead and catching the light of the screensaver for the television. “I think so.”

 

“Maybe I’ll crash at his place, so it doesn’t get weird with Rachel. You plan some New York-y stuff for us to do.” 

 

“I will.”

 

“I gotta say, it was pretty awesome seeing you last night. I mean, before you went up to your room.”

 

“I… what?”

 

“When you were just layin’ down the smack.” Finn chuckled. “That was off the hook, dude. It was wicked. “

 

“Oh. I don’t know. I don’t usually… I try not to let myself get that far.”

 

“Yeah, I know. I  _see you_ try not to get that far. But sometimes you just gotta let go. Or people don’t get the picture. It reminded me of when you were so pissed at me, sophomore year. You remember? And I deserved it.”

 

“That’s different, though.”  


 

“Yeah. I just like seeing how strong you are. You’re one of the bravest people I know.”

 

Kurt closed his eyes for a few seconds, and then opened them and looked around the room. This space they’d carved out of nothing, when he had no job and no certainty that he could get one. His luck senior year showed a definite slant toward the world dumping on him. This had been a huge gamble. But there hadn’t been much other choice.

 

“Sometimes I find it amazing that I continue to get out of bed,” he said honestly.

 

“I find it amazing you do that, too,” Finn said. It was in that off-handed, half-smiling tone that Finn used mostly when he was laughing at himself or had to admit he didn’t know the words people were using around him.

 

Kurt swallowed and touched his lips.

 

“ _You’re_  amazing, dude,” Finn said more seriously. “I’d just be a sucky person without you.”

 

“That’s not true, Finn.”

 

“Nope. I’d be a homophobic douche. Without a dad or a brother.”

 

Kurt’s eyes widened. “Ouch.”

 

“And I probably wouldn’t be in college now, without you. Y’know, all the pep talks…”

 

“I’m good at those.”

 

“And homework help. You and Marley, who told me to grow a pair. Which is like a Hummel peptalk without all the sugar coating.”

 

“Marley sounds like  _dad_.”

 

Finn laughed. Hard. Then started to cough. “Dude. Stop.”

 

“ _Sorry._ ”

 

“I just imagined little Marley in coveralls in the shop.”

 

“I think Santana might appreciate that image.”

 

Finn started laughing again. “Yeah, probably. So. Anyway. I just wanted to say, if you ever need anything? Like  _anything_. Give me a call, okay? Don’t feel like you should have to do any of it alone, or that it’ll be a burden, or even that I’ll tell Burt, if you don’t want me to. All right?”

 

Kurt’s chest rose and fell several times as he weighed Finn’s words and felt his own heart shaking his body.

 

“Kurt?”

 

“Yeah. I will, Finn. You too?”

 

“Yeah, I will, but I already knew that. I mean, you tried to redecorate our room to flatter my skin tone. And those totally weren’t your colors.”

 

Now it was Kurt’s turn to laugh. It felt odd. Like he shouldn’t be laughing. He should be taking things seriously, and he should have a harder time being near his boyfriend, and he shouldn’t be able to appreciate the normalcy that the craziness of his friends brought.

 

But if Adam and Finn were any indication, maybe he could discard ‘should’ from his vocabulary for recovery. No more should. Just what helped best. Really, the only should from Santana and Adam was to cut off contact with Blaine, and that was probably a good idea for everyone

 

“Thank you, Finn.”

 

“No problem. Look, I gotta get to bed. Try to sleep yourself, hm?”

 

“I will.”

 

Kurt ended the call, then snuggled back into the futon with Adam. He was so tired now that he could barely see, and yet he didn’t know if he’d be able to sleep. He might just keep jerking to wakefulness, as he did with Adam, and as he had on the plane, scaring the hell out of Santana. But he stretched out a little and pulled the afghan over them. If he couldn’t sleep, he could at least bask in the nearness of Adam and safety of  _finally_ being home.


End file.
